


To Be Somebody

by natsora



Series: The Misfortune of Reyes Vidal [5]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Budding Relationship, Drinking, F/M, First Kiss, Humour, Inappropriate Punching, Of the Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 02:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20770796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: A party, the Pathfinder on his arm, some danger, a bottle of whiskey. Ingredients to a wonderful night out, or so Reyes thought.





	To Be Somebody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blacksheep33512](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksheep33512/gifts).

> The new instalment to the Misfortunes of Reyes Vidal. The adventure continues. I hope everyone enjoys it. Kudos and comments are welcomed!

Reyes rubbed his hands over his face as he listened to Keema’s report. 

“Sloane has been making moves towards the Collective,” Keema said. “They have captured another cell.”

“Which cell?” he asked, voice cold and collected. It was the only way to keep a grip on his emotions. 

_My cell, my people._

Anger at the failure of his people to keep themselves safe, fear of what they might reveal and the smack of cool realisation he’d do exactly the same thing if he was Sloane. He wasn’t so naive to think blood wouldn’t be shed when the takeover happened but this was too soon. 

“The ones at the Wind Farm.”

An explosive breath of relief was the only sign of outward emotions he allowed himself. _They don’t know anything of importance. It’s fine. Plans are still intact._ But there was also a flash of anger, this time directed at himself. When did he got so callous, lives thrown into the furnace without a backward thought to the living and breathing people tied to the tally in his head. _In war there are also sacrifices. This is merely the price of the throne._

“Reyes, this cannot stand,” Kemma said, her voice hard like stone. 

“I know,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair, taking care not to muss them up.

“She is planning to hit our people, that’s a given.”

“I know,” voice low as the gears in his mind ground, plans forming and reforming, ideas examined and discarded for something better and cleverer. 

“Our plans won’t stand if she got to the right people.”

“I know,” he snarled, teeth flashing. 

Keema stiffened. But before either could speak, his door beeped once as it slid open. He didn’t bother to say goodbye before terminating the call, she would understand. 

“What _do_ you know?” the question floated from behind. A flare of anger at being disturbed but at the same time the recognition of the voice brought a strange flutter to his chest. He turned, heart pounding hard against his ribs. 

Ryder stood with arms on her hips. She wasn’t dressed in her usual Initiative armour instead she was wearing a weathered brown leather jacket, a stylish red scarf encircled her spacer tanned neck. One hand rose to tug at her brown locks, for a moment, she looked apprehensive. 

_What did she hear? Did she hear everything? The door should have been enough to bar anyone eavesdropping outside, I made sure but that AI of hers…_

His brown eyes searched hers, seeking a hint of anger, a silver of knowledge but she just returned the look innocently. It seemed his secret was safe, she only had overheard that last sentence he uttered.

“Hey,” he greeted, raising to his feet. “You look nice.”

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him cooly. “Nice,” she repeated, her tone anything but. Sighing, she stepped in, allowing the door to shut behind her. A furrow already forming between her brows. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“No,” he replied reflexively. “I didn’t.”

Without warning, music burst from her omni-tool. She flinched. 

_There's not a word of truth in anything that I say  
I don't really want to listen till they go away_

“SAM!” she shouted but her voice was drowned by the sheer volume of the music. One hand clapped around her ear ineffectively, she glared at him like this was his fault. 

_I haven't finished and I never cry  
If you ask me why, I just lie_

He would have held his hands up in a shrug but he also had his hands over his ears. “SAM, stop, stop,” he shouted. “All right, all right. I lied.”

_I'm a liar, liar, I never tell the truth  
I'm a liar, liar, I never tell the truth_

SAM let the music played on for a couple more seconds as if pressing his point across before the music was cut off mid-singing. 

Ryder shook her head, it must be ringing like his was. She lifted her eyes to meet his, unamused. “So you did forget, it’s evident. You’re not ready for the party.”

He blinked. _Party… Sloane’s party… Yes, I need intel, what better way to get it than directly from the lion’s den._

Reyes dragged a calmness he didn’t feel over his face and smirked. “A man’s got to try right?” he winked.

She was obviously still not appeased as she tapped her foot a couple of times. “Tick, tock, Vidal.”

Now he knew he was in trouble. They had graduated from last names to first names a few weeks ago. This switch promised to be nothing but trouble. “All right, all right,” he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Let me go get changed.”

* * *

Ryder stepped up to the guards. “I’m here for the party,” she said, resisting the urge to touch her hair again. 

She could feel it, literally feel the damn ends of her hair curling as she stood there. But no, she’s the Pathfinder, she had self control, she would stop fucking touch her Andromeda cursed hair. 

_I wish I have Keith’s hair._

It wasn’t the first time she thought that today. And neither would it be the last. She should had come to terms with her hair, one would think by now. Months in Andromeda, months of chaos and combat, months of life without hair products to tame the curling ends of her hair. Chatting with Keith, every couple of days when she had time, just reminded her how she was on the shitty end of the genetic lottery, inheriting none of her parents’ wake-up-and-look-good hair genes. 

She sighed and directed her attention to the guards who looked unimpressed with her statement. 

“Who are you?” the krogan asked. 

“The Pathfinder?” she replied sarcastically. “The. Only. Fucking. Pathfinder?”

“Where’s your invitation?” the asari asked, hand stretched out towards her. 

_Invitation?_ Reyes did not give her anything of that sort. He just verbally invited her. _Did he just asked me to gatecrash Sloane’s party?_ She sighed, irritation creeping up her throat when she felt a hand wrapped around her waist. 

“She’s with me,” the dulcet and honey smooth tones spilled from Reyes’ mouth as he tugged her flushed against his side. 

There was a slight, _slight, mind you,_ flutter against her chest but it was mostly annoyance. He had forgotten about the party. To think she had Vetra scare up this scarf for her so she could look a little nicer for this party. Andromeda was low in the way of nice clothes and she didn’t think turning up in her armour would bode well. But she wasn’t completely unarmed, a pistol was strapped to the small of her back. This was still Kadara after all.

Reyes stiffened when his hand brushed against her waist band, probably discovering the pistol. She leaned into him. “Don’t make me use that on you, Mr. Vidal.”

He grinned, eyes twinkling in mischief though his smile looked a little brittle. “You wouldn’t,” he said. “You like having me around too much.”

“Don’t push it,” she purred with a tiny hint of steel. 

The doors parted and they sailed in together like a cruise ship parting the waves. Ryder took in the scene before her. Sloane was lounging on her throne, arms draping the chair like a mink coat on a noir femme fatale. Kaetus stood spine stiff, back straight next to her, looking like the stoic bodyguard he wanted to be. Guests gathered in corners like dust in unswept corners of an abandoned house. Eyes honed in on them, glinting predatorily at Reyes and herself. It was only by the barest strings of self control she didn’t reach for her pistol. 

_Cool, cool, cool. Stay fucking cool._

“Are you all right?” Reyes whispered, his hand tightened around her waist as she stiffened at the wall of unwelcoming eyes. 

“I’m good,” she cleared her throat, missing Drack’s reassuring presence and Cora’s ever ready biotics keenly. “Just taking in the party. Such welcome.”

Reyes chuckled low. “Don’t worry, they’ll at least wait till you step out before stabbing you in the back.”

“Here I was thinking I’ll start a bar fight,” she retorted. “I brought a knife just for this very purpose.”

Their smooth glide across the floor came to a grinding halt at her words. His face paled at her words. _I still got it._ She smirked, “Breathe, Vidal. It’s a joke.”

Snorting, he ran his fingers through his hair. She couldn’t help but track the movement, looking at those long fingers parting strands of hair. Curling where they should, keeping their shape with the help of hair product. Product she couldn’t buy with all the money the Nexus didn’t pay her. 

“What?” Reyes asked innocently. 

“Nothing,” she huffed before rolling her shoulders back. Time to get to work. “Introduce me?” As the words left her mouth, an angara, skin a dull earth green and clad in deep purple leathers, approached. 

“Reyes Vidal, I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” the angara said, smiling, eyes not missing where Reyes still had his arm on her wrist. “You must introduce me to your _friend_.”

Ryder put on her best diplomatic smile as Reyes hastily removed his arm. “Pathfinder, meet Keema Dohrgun, the angara representative to Sloane. And a friend.”

She lifted out her arm in an angara greeting. Well, the other angara greeting was hugging and there would be no hugging strange angaras here on Kadara. Jaal had warned her countless times. Keema’s eyes widened and they thumped forearms together. “Pleasure to meet you, just call me Ryder,” she said.

“I’m impressed. Reyes had mentioned you but he never told me how much you know of angara ways,” Keema remarked, her large eyes sparkling with interest. 

Ryder’s eyebrow rose. “He mentioned me, you say?” 

Reyes grimaced and slid away. “Ladies, I hate to cut this short, but I have something take care of.”

“Abandoning me already?” Ryder asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well, you have things to do of your own, I believe,” he pointed out. 

Her mouth twisted as she watched Reyes merged into the crowd. “There goes our boy,” Keema chuckled. 

* * *

Reyes reached into his pocket, feeling around for the small and round pucks he had pocketed earlier. They were completely unobtrusive but felt heavy in his hand despite their size. Palming one, he leaned over to greet one of his many contacts and stuck it under the table. It wasn’t the best of locations for a listening bug but that’s why he had more than one. He didn’t need all of them to work all of the time, just one at the right moment would give him all the advantage he needed. Still, he wasn’t a man given to optimism. 

A shiver ran down his spine, eyes were on him. He turned and surveyed the crowd. _Who?_ Everyone was watching everyone else, everyone was both hunter and hunted. Booze were flowing and tongues were loose. A fight could break out over the most foolish of reasons despite Kaetus and his heavily armed men. Stupidity didn’t need an excuse to strike. 

Then, across the space at the far end of the room, as the sea of people parted and joined over and over, a pair of bright blue eyes caught his. A hint of a smirk on her face sent a tingle down his spine. Eyes turning away, directing her attention at what passed for royalty on Kadara before the crowd blocked her from his view again. 

Reyes recognised those eyes anywhere. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he glided into the crowd, seeking a new spot. Another listening bug planted, another glimpse of a smirk, teeth showing this time. He returned the favour with a toss of his head and a wink to boot. Back and forth, they traded their little antics. A innocent cock of her head, her hand not quite hiding the smile that lifted her lips, a brow arched upwards as her gaze tracked his movements. A flash of teeth, white against his dusky skin, his tongue flickered outwards like a snake tasting the air. And he couldn’t help it, a wink as a finishing move. 

Despite begging leave to deal with his little thing, somehow Ryder and himself were flirting their way as they circled the room. He furtively greeting colleagues and contacts as he inched his way closer and closer to Sloane’s throne. She stalking him like prey, closer and further, gliding between clusters of people, speaking to then and gathering information. 

The tightness in his chest since getting the news from Keema had all but disappeared. But it all came back when Ryder made the inevitable walk towards Sloane to speak to her. One couldn’t snub the host of the party by not speaking to them after all. This wasn’t all play, this was work too. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but by the way Sloane was sneering at Ryder, he knew things couldn’t be going too well. 

Taking the chance while Sloane was distracted with Ryder, he inched closer, listening bug folded in his palm. Kaetus was near but his attention was distracted, completely honed in on the Pathfinder. This was his best chance, now or never. Breath held, he slipped between the guests, a drink in his hand. A quick dart he pressed his last listening bug against the small conduit just off from Sloane’s dais. This was as close as he dared. The breath he held was released explosively as he retreated, pressing his back into a corner. 

“You should stop trying to flirt with your girlfriend from across the room,” Keema rebuked gently as she approached, handing him a fresh glass of whatever passed for Kadara’s moonshine these days. “It’s far easier to do it up close and personal.”

He snorted and drank, instantly regretting it as the beverage tried to burn the taste buds off his tongue. “I don’t know how can you drink this shit,” he thumped the glass on a nearby table and pushing it away. “What wouldn’t I give for some proper whiskey, a sip of 645 year-old Mount Milgrom whiskey would be great right about now.”

Keema chuckled. “Whiskey you can get, just drop by Kralla’s song and pay for it.”

He regarded his partner. “You know I never pay for my drinks.”

She shook her head. “I’ll do well to remember that. So before we’re so rudely interrupted the last time…”

His brow creased as he instinctively pulled deeper into the shadows, eyes trained on Sloane. The queen of Kadara looked for all the world, bored, utterly sick of the party she had thrown. A dictator who was blasé about how she held the lives of everyone living at the Port in the palm of her hands. She looked nothing like the mangled corpses of his people with clear evidence of torture littering their skin and bones. 

“I know,” he repeated, just as he did in the prior conversation. Though his voice was ice cold, his eyes burnt with a need to see the tyrant and all she represented disposed, taken out the back and shot. “I have matters in hand,” he assured Keema. “And let me put the record straight, Ryder isn’t my girlfriend.”

She looked at him unconvinced. “If she isn’t, I think maybe my translator needs its software updated. Cause in angara, she is your…” she reached out and tapped on his omni-tool to deactivate his translator. “Taoshay.”

And speaking of taoshay, Reyes straightened and realised he hadn’t seen Ryder in a while, not since her little chat with Sloane at the very least. Keema noted his heightened scrutiny of the crowd. “Looking for your taoshay already?” she asked, a hint of amusement lifting her tone. 

“Just trying to keep the Pathfinder out of trouble,” he replied evenly as his thoughts raced ahead of him. He had seen the kinds of trouble Ryder could get herself in, albeit she was also equally capable of getting herself out of them. _But still…_

“I saw she leaving the party.”

“She left?” Incredulity making his voice pitched high. “She has abandoned me here?”

“You did that first,” she pointed out. 

“Touché.” Lips resisted the urge to form a pout, he sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I better go make sure she doesn’t actually get into trouble.”

Keema’s smile just widened. “Don’t get into trouble together.”

* * *

“Where is it?” Ryder muttered under her breath. “It has got to be here somewhere.” She lifted her arm and started scanning the nearest crate. “SAM, any luck?”

“Negative, Ryder,” he replied instantly. 

She grunted angrily and pried open the next crate, eschewing the scanning technique altogether. Using an omni-blade for the job was probably a bad idea as the scent of burning metal wafted up. 

“May I suggest allowing me to hack the crate’s security lock?” 

The omni-blade fizzled out with a disappointed buzz. “Right, right, that’s a better idea,” she replied. “Let’s start with this one.”

The lock took mere seconds to beep indicating it’s unlocked. Fingers dug into the edges and pried open the lid. Inside were clear bottles of clear brown liquid. Ryder couldn’t help the huff of disappointment as she carried the crate to the ground to start on the next one stacked below. 

“It’s impossible,” she hissed, opening what must be the hundredth or thousandth crate. “She must use _some_ kind of hair product. How does she keep her fucking cornrows so neat without them?”

“What the fuck?” a voice hissed behind her. 

Ryder stiffened and whirled as her heart sank. _Shit, shit, shit._ She fucked up. _Why didn’t SAM warn me?_

This party was a way to have an up close look on the Outcasts and how Sloane was keeping everyone happy. Instead of doing that, well she did pay her _respects_ to the Queen of Kadara, she did rub shoulders with all the merchants running the business end of the Port and even helped a hopeless turian dude out with his horrible decision to try and make his date jealous, she was here sneaking into Sloane’s warehouse trying to find her stash of hair products. And they weren’t anywhere to be found. This was just fucking dreadful. Now, she was discovered, she would be shot for this stupid decision she had made. 

_What a way to go, death of a pathfinder thanks to hair products, or the lack there of._

Instead of the barrel of a gun, she found Reyes with his jaw slack and eyes wide staring at her. A snort burst from her lips as she reached out to drag him into the warehouse. There was no sense in letting them get discovered like this. 

“What are you doing?” Reyes spluttered eventually, his eyes darting to take in the mess behind her. 

She grimaced. “I was just looking for you know…” Suddenly having to put her actions into words, made it sounded foolish even in her head.

His eyes narrowed, taking on a suspicious glint. “Looking for?” he practically purred as he stepped closer towards her. 

Despite the single arm’s distance between them, she could feel the heat of his closeness. She cleared her throat, trying to hide how this was all making her feel. _Professionalism, bitch. Get a grip. This is Vidal, Reyes. A work colleague._ “Hair products,” she blurted in the end. 

He froze, face stuck between amusement and confusion. “Really?”

“Yes?” Her eyebrows rose as a sheepish smile stole over her face. 

He chuckled, low and gravelly. The sound sending signals when it never did before. _What’s happening to me?_ Alarm bells were going off in her head. 

Reyes was always fun to be around but he was also a person she knew who held things close to the chest. After all this was Kadara, its politics deadly, one wrong move and it’s a slip into the acid pools, nobody would be the wiser. But at least things were a little more honest than on the Nexus with their fake smiles and pointed questions. She grimaced, remembering the disappointment when she told them the real Pathfinder was dead and they got the base model instead. 

Kadara was a hard place, it’s made for survivors. Everyone else would be chewed up and spat out. It ground even the best of people down. But Reyes not only survived, he rose up Kadara’s social strata. Running jobs for the anagaras, having a steady flow of goods, well _smuggled_ goods, to be transported; he was doing well. 

Keeping him close made sense, she told herself. Knowing all this, knowing what Kadara forced people to do to survive, let alone thrived, she trusted him, with her life if need be. But what was this feeling?

“Hair product isn’t something Sloane will secure in here,” Reyes said. “It’s probably somewhere in her private quarters I’d think.”

“Damn,” she cursed. “I thought she’d keep her spares here or something.” A sigh escaped her lips as she started to put the crates back to rights. 

“But that isn’t to say there aren’t treasures to be found here though,” he pointed out, peeking into the opened crates.

But the search wasn’t all for nothing. Having done a rather thorough search through the warehouse, she knew how well armed Sloane and the Outcasts were, especially judging by the crates of ammo and small calibre explosives she found. Best to let sleeping lions lie, well not sleeping but more distracted with other competition.

Most of the crates were more or less put back to rights when Reyes exclaimed, “Look what we have here?” A bottle of clear brown liquid emerged from one of the first boxes she looked into. He struck a triumphant pose, lifting the bottle up in the air as if it was a trophy. His face lit up, a smile of real joy and surprise lifted his lips as he turned to her. 

“Whiskey.”

She grimaced, having not retained a taste for alcohol since trying to drown her sorrows at Vortex. “Rotten grain juice I say.”

“One man’s meat is another’s poison,” he grinned as he tucked the bottle under his arm. “This, I’m keeping.”

She shrugged. But before they could close the lid on that last crate, SAM chirped up, “Pathfinder, there are guards approaching the door.”

Reyes stiffened and tugged her towards the corner, pressing her against the wall. “Quick, just kiss me,” he urged. 

“Is this your idea of a romantic situation? Kiss or death?”

“No, of course not. We can’t let the guards know we’re—”

The door slid open and there was no more time for words. Ryder leaned forward, Reyes bent his head towards her. His lips perking forward, seeking contact, eyes closing in anticipation. She could hear the clomps of boots, rifles rattling against armour. Steeling herself, she drew back and launched her fist straight into Reyes’ gut. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. 

All he managed was a high pitched groan as he fell against her. The guards stopped, eyes keen on them. _Shit, they’re not buying it._

“Who do you think you are?” she yelled, shoving him roughly, pulling the bottle from his hand and dropping it behind her. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

Reyes caught on quick and started slurring, “Oh man, I’m so sorry. I thought, I thought…”

Her eyes were trained on the guards as angry words spilled from her lips, coupled with a finger jabbing in Reyes’ direction. The pair were muttering at each other as one of them turned to go. “Crazy fucking drunks.”

But the other lingered, eyes leering at her. Not her face but raking hot lines from her chest downwards. “I’ll tap that bitch too, won’t you?” the second guard said.

Reyes stiffened at that remark, lips curling into half a snarl as he started to whirl around. She halted him by grabbed his hand, growling loud enough to carry. “Don’t think you’re getting away with just apologies, I’m going to beat your sorry ass.”

“Please no,” he cried, albeit a little too dramatically. 

The guards took the bait and beat a hasty retreat. As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, all pretence was dropped. Reyes clutched his mid-riff, massaging it. “Fuck, Pathfinder, you hit hard.”

“Sorry, that’s the only thing I could think to do,” she apologised. 

“The only thing?” he moaned. “What about kissing? That would be far less painful.”

She smacked his arm. “Come on, I’m a woman of action,” she said, heart fluttering like a butterfly trapped within her ribs. “Anyway, it would have been weird. If it really hurts that badly I’ll have Lexi can take a look at you.”

“It hurts but I’m not quite _that_ hurt.” He chuckled. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Reyes wasn’t joking when he said it hurt. Walking made his midsection twinged, sitting wasn’t much different. Mild pain radiated from where Ryder’s fist had made solid contact. Idly he wondered if she would have broke a rib or two if he wasn’t wear the armoured jacket she had given him. Her knuckles were still red from the punch, it probably hurt her hand as much as it did his gut. 

“Wow,” Ryder exclaimed. Hands on her hips, her back towards him, the sunset cast its orange rays against her brown hair, silhouetting her against the dying light of the sun. They stood on the roof of one of the many pre-fabs haphazardly stacked and made to function as permanent structures.

The sight took his breath away as he shielded his eyes against the sheer brilliance. She stood tall and stark against the rising smoke from the port below and further out the sharp jagged edges of barren Kadara. She looked like the Pathfinder and symbol of hope that she was. His chest tightened, making him wonder if Ryder had caused more damage than she intended. 

“Kadara is beautiful, isn’t it?” he said.

She sighed as she turned, the light catching her hair just right, casting a halo around her. “You’re right, it is,” the words were spoken as she met his eyes.

His breath hitched. _Is she talking about me? No, no. This is just a normal conversation. Ignore how your heart is going nuts. When in doubt, flirt. That’s safe._

He cleared his throat. “Of course, I’m beautiful,” he winked, barely able to keep his voice from breaking.

She laughed as she sat down, legs draped over the edge. The sight couldn’t help but make his heart skip a beat. “Fuck, Ryder, be careful,” he gasped. “I don’t want Lieutenant Harper warping my ass off the Port because you slipped and fell to your death.”

“Aww, come on,” she drawled, leaning on her arms, tilting her head to look at him upside down. “Just sit down.” She straightened and thumped the bottle down next to her. 

His eyes widened as he took a seat, bumping her shoulder. “Careful!” she snapped, tilting in the opposite direction. 

Reyes’ heart dropped to his guts and leaked out of his pants as he grabbed at her arm, pulling her back. “Ryder! Fuck! Please!”

Laughter burst from her lips as she handed him the bottle. “Hold this before I drop it,” she managed through her giggles. “You should have seen your face. I swear you lost a couple shades just now.”

Reyes snorted in mock anger and grabbed the bottle, ignoring Ryder’s chortles. He concentrated on twisting the cap off. Without waiting, he took a deep draw, shutting his eyes as he did so. Liquid gold burnt its way down his throat, warming his guts and infusing his senses. This was totally worth the punch. 

“Tripled distilled 645 year-old Mount Milgrom whiskey,” he sighed as he tilted the bottle at Ryder. “Liquid gold.”

Ryder bent over and took a sniff, her face screwed up tight like the bottle had urine in it. “No thanks.”

He chuckled. “More for me then.”

They just sat together, enjoying the cool Kadara breeze ruffling through hair, caressing skin. The sun dipped between rust coloured peaks far in the distance, turning the landscape from gold to purple. Twilight was that magical time, fleeting and short. Sometimes it stretched as if time stood still, other times it was there and gone in a blink of an eye. Here and now, it reminded and reinforced in his mind that coming to Kadara wasn’t a mistake. It was merely life giving him what he needed rather than what he thought he wanted. 

“Why did you come?” Ryder broke the silence, her feet swinging back and forth. She was completely at ease in her skin, in her purpose despite falling into it by sheer accident. 

“Hmm?” 

“To Andromeda, leaving everything and everyone to come here,” her gaze far away. 

The warmth in his belly froze over, his jaw tightened. The silence stretched. Ryder turned to regard him, her expression open and sincere before realisation dawned upon her. “Shit, sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to pry.”

He shook his head before drinking from the bottle again. This time, a small sip. “No, it’s fine, it’s just lame.”

Her eyes narrowed but she kept quiet, waiting for him to continue. Words were heavy on his tongue. The past pressed close against his mind. But these were all old hurts, faded into distant aches he ignored mostly. But here on the precipice of his bold plans going completely awry, they stung in a way they hadn’t since he had arrived. 

“Let’s talk about you first,” he countered. 

One of her eyebrow rose then she shrugged. “Sure, that’s fair. What do you want to know?”

“Is Andromeda everything you’d hope it would be?” the question tumbled out of his mouth before he could reconsider. 

Ryder’s gaze turned inwards, embers of pain flickered behind her blue eyes. She sighed and grimaced. “Well, to put it plainly no.” Turning her back towards him, she looked out into the port, eyes tracking the merchants and patrons coming and going even as lights flickered on. Business never cease here. “I didn’t come here to be Pathfinder, I was supposed to explore, I was supposed to learn new cultures and study our new home. Not this.”

Her back was stiff, shoulders rigid under the immense pressure. It looked lonely so his body reacted. Hand jerking up to rest upon her shoulder, he gave her a little squeeze. Some of the tension leaked from her as she leaned into his touch. Despite the layers of leather and fabric between them, Reyes never felt Ryder was more open about herself. 

“You’re doing good you know,” Reyes pointed out. “You made Eos viable, you set up outposts. We’re shifting from mere survival to building a real home here in Andromeda because of you.”

“I just wish Dad is still around to see all this, you know?”

“I don’t imagine your father would be sitting here enjoying the sunset with me,” Reyes pointed out. 

She chuckled, facing him, her eyes shining with tears held back. “No, he would have ripped you a new one for the stunt you did back there.”

“Then I’m glad you’re my partner in crime,” he winked. 

Her answering grin lifted his dark spirits instantly. “What about you? Why did you come?” she asked as she spread her hands out, gesturing at the Port. 

Reyes drank, stalling for time. Hopes, dreams, ambitions burnt strongly within him. But it’s too much to put it on Ryder. In the end, he lifted his head, savouring the smooth aftertaste of the whiskey, and met her eyes. “To be someone.”

Her gaze softened, the cheeky grin slid off her face as she smiled. “You’re someone to me.” 

Honesty rang with every word. The statement hovered between them. Reyes’ heart pounded as he maintained his charming facade. _Did it mean what I thought it meant?_ The longer he stared at her, the wider her smile broadened. 

“Come on Reyes, you’re never a nobody. You know that.” Reaching across, she plucked the bottle from his hand. Hefting it, she looking at him. “Isn’t this supposed to be some kind of rare alcohol? Shouldn’t you try to make it last longer?”

He was too dumbfounded by her previous statement to find words to retort. His chest was warm. But it wasn’t the whiskey making it so, it wasn’t even her words, it was her gaze. Steadfast and sure, without a hint of guile behind it. In Kadara, this was rare. In the life he had before coming to Andromeda, rarer still. The confidence, faith and belief Ryder had in him was staggering. 

“Well, a good whiskey needs to be enjoyed with beautiful company,” he pointed out eventually, feeling like his words stumbled over themselves on their way out of his mouth. He added a wink for good measure. 

Ryder didn’t meet his eyes, a telltale blush crept up her neck. _What’s that about?_ His eyes tracked as she lifted the bottle and took a deep drink. Her face scrunched up as she stuck her tongue out. “Sorry,” she coughed, muffling them with a hand. “It doesn’t matter how old this shit is, it still tastes horrible.”

The bottle was thrusted back in his direction. But as he reached out to take it from her, she didn’t let go. Instead, she tugged him towards her. Surprised, he tipped forward. Throwing an arm out, he braced to keep from falling into her. 

Given their luck, Reyes had expected her skull to meet his jaw, or something similarly painful but soft lips pressed against his instead, teeth clicking together. It was awkward and slightly weird, there was nothing romantic or erotic about it, but a thrill ran up his spine and down his crotch all the same. 

_This is an accident, a fucking accident. SAM had better not play some stupid song again._

He pulled back, apologies bubbling up his throat despite it being not his fault. Ryder’s lips curved into a smile as her lips parted to nibble at his. That was when he stopped moving, eyes widening in surprise. Like a bull let out of the pen, he pressed forward. A tongue lapped against hers, tasting the lingering whiskey, finding hers eager to tangle. It was a cool drink of water on a hot day, it was the first sunrise he saw in Andromeda, it was adrenaline shot through his heart, leaving him all jittery and shaky. Kissing Ryder was better than a 645 year old whiskey, any day. 

When Ryder finally pulled back, he chased her a little before reluctantly settling back. His eyes searched hers. Questions whirled around his head in the wake of that kiss. She smiled. It’s a soft one, the kind where her lips curled just a little, her teeth barely showing, her gaze focused on him. “Thought I should, you know,” her voice trailed off, her gaze danced away like a butterfly. “Say sorry.”

He blinked blankly at her. “For?”

“The punch.”

A laugh burst from his lungs. “If I get a kiss like that every time you punch me, I’d welcome it,” winking again. 

“You know,” she straightened, relinquishing the bottle to him finally. “What’s your winking? It’s verging on chronic, do you need eye drops or something?”

Reyes spluttered, outraged that his signature move was turned into a dry eye issue. But in the end his laughter joined hers. His belly ached from how hard mirth was spilling from him. In that moment all his fears and doubts were banished. With Ryder filling his eyes, taking his attention, his spirits were lifted. His purpose and goal reaffirmed under that soft gaze reserved for him. There was no way he couldn’t do what he had set out to. Not with someone like Ryder, Kate Ryder, deciding that he was somebody. 

**Lyric taken from [Liar by The Damned](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EW17JWztx1U)**

**Author's Note:**

> Ryder stepped back onto the Tempest, her feet light, her head spun a little. It wasn’t from the alcohol she had consumed. It was merely a mouthful, it wasn’t enough to make her drunk or even the least bit tipsy. She sighed contentedly as she flung herself onto the bed. It felt like being a teenager all over again. This feeling she had of Reyes was solidifying at a terrifying rate. Song erupted from the player next to her bed.
> 
> _Like a river flows surely to the sea  
Darling so it goes_
> 
> “Oh fuck, SAM,” she groaned, burying her face into the pillow. “Please stop.”
> 
> _Some things are meant to be  
Take my hand, take my whole life too_
> 
> SAM didn’t reply but neither did the song. In fact, the volume seemed to increase.
> 
> _For I can't help falling in love with you  
For I can't help falling in love with you_
> 
> “SAM…”
> 
> The buzz lasted for the rest of the night, stretching into the next day. But as time went, the heaviness in her chest increased. Ryder didn’t want to let go of this feeling but she was a Pathfinder and she needed to work for the greater good. The conversation she had overheard in Tartarus couldn’t simply be cast aside. 
> 
> The Nomad rolled to a stop and she stepped out alone. This was possible because she had endured Cora’s scolding and the others’ admonishments. But she had insisted. The complex at the Wind Farm loomed large ahead. 
> 
> She sighed, “SAM, commence recording, I’ll be scanning every inch of this place.”
> 
> “Understood, Ryder.”
> 
> **Lyrics taken from [Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGJTaP6anOU)**


End file.
